


When Being Young Starts Getting Old

by lukeinallhisglory



Series: Cake [16]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Closeted Character, Denial of Feelings, Drunk Sex, Eventual Smut, Fights, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Memory Loss, Morning After, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2018-09-30 01:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10150334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukeinallhisglory/pseuds/lukeinallhisglory
Summary: The one where Calum is very confused, and Luke finds that he keeps getting hurt, but what they have runs deep, and they can't avoid how they feel.





	1. A Flicker Of A Soul Casting Silhouettes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first long, planned out one. The chapters are acting weird, but this gonna be a multi-chaptered thing (Update: the chapters are fixed now). I have ideas that I'm super excited about, and one's that I feel bad writing, but have to happen. Get hyped.  
> I don't own 5SOS and this is purely for entertainment.  
> Titles all from "Outlines" by All Time Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calum wakes up in Luke's bed, having blacked out drunk the night before, but maintains that he's straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited for this, guys. This is gonna be a multi-chapter thing. Heavy on the angst, and heavy in confrontations. I really hope you like this first chapter, and let me know if you catch any mistakes.

I felt a steady weight around my waist as I started to drift awake. I took stock of my surroundings, realizing this wasn’t my room, that I was completely naked, and that the arm around me definitely belonged to Luke. I could just tell, even without looking, because of how familiar his body was. We’d shared a bed more times than I could count, but this time felt resolutely different. I couldn’t remember coming to his room. I couldn’t remember what we’d said or done. I couldn’t remember anything, except that I’d definitely had sex with someone, and odds pointed to it being the naked boy whose legs were tangled with mine under the covers.

“Luke?” I murmured, untangling our legs and turning over.

He groaned and opened one eye, instantly smiling at me. “Hi,” he beamed and leaned towards me. His mouth pressed to mine firmly, and I spent a second noting a bloom of heat from the pit of my stomach before I sat up abruptly.

“What are you doing?” I stared at him, blushing. My lips tingled, and I pressed them together to try to make them stop.

He frowned. “How drunk were you last night?”

“I don’t remember,” I admitted.

“Fuck, Cal,” he groaned, throwing an arm over his face, rolling onto his back. I looked at him, the expanse of pale skin leading to a trail of soft dark blonde hair, which disappeared under the blanket laying across his hips. I flushed and looked away quickly, feeling my stomach flip nervously.

“What happened? Between us?” I asked, my throat dry. My pulse pounded in my ears as I waited for a response, thinking that maybe he hadn’t heard me.

Luke dropped his arm and looked over at me torturedly. “You’ve gotta be joking.”

I grimaced. “Sorry.” And I was. I didn’t know exactly what I’d done last night, but I knew that I was hurting him now.

“Nothing?”

“I definitely had sex. I’m assuming it was with you.”

“Yeah, it was with me,” Luke said stoically. I immediately felt bad for phrasing it quite that way. He got up and retrieved his boxers from the floor, pulling them on. He had bruises, low on his hips, up the insides of his thighs, and on the side of his neck. Bruises from me. My head spun, and the image of him marked up was forever burned inside my head. “God we had sex like 5 times, you honestly don’t remember?” He was looking at me like he wished he could touch me, probably like he wished it were still last night. Part of me wanted him to just kiss me again, for him to be braver than I was because then, maybe, this would end how I wanted it to. Most of me was too scared, certainly too scared to ask him to kiss me. Probably too scared to even kiss him back if he tried.

“I don’t even remember coming here. Based on my headache right now, I was fucking plastered.” I knew I wasn’t being that sensitive to the situation, but I was frustrated at not knowing what had happened, or what would happen, or even what I wanted.

“You don’t remember saying anything to me?”

“What did I say?” He blushed violently and walked into the bathroom, coming back with two Tylenol and a bottle of water, setting them on the bedside table next to me. I felt a pang at the gesture, guilt at knowing everything he was saying and doing would never mean to me what it meant to him, and I could never fix that. He lingered there for a moment, looking down at the water and tablets, like he wanted to say something. “What did I say?" I asked again, softer this time.

“I can’t.” he shook his head. “It’s not important, you were drunk.”

It looked really fucking important based on his expression, but I let it drop, unsure if I even truly wanted to know. “What do we do now?”

He looked up at me, his eyes were dark and I could feel that he was remembering every moment from last night. He sat down on the edge of the bed and I took the medicine he’d brought me, feeling heat pool in my stomach as my imagination supplied vivid images. “What do you want to do, Calum?” he asked finally.  

“Luke, I’m-I’m straight,” I murmured, watching his face fall even further. “Last night, I was drunk, but I’m just not…I’m straight.” I didn’t know what else to say. I wasn’t sure what I meant by it because if last night wasn’t proof enough that that wasn’t quite true, then what was? Maybe I just meant that I was confused, but my mind was still fuzzy, and I felt extremely vulnerable under the gaze of someone who had images of sex with me that I didn’t have of them.

He didn’t say anything. He stood up again and started getting dressed. He didn’t look at me the whole time, just pulled on his clothing and left. I sat in his bed, still completely naked, still hung over, until I realized he wasn’t coming back anytime soon, and when he did, he didn’t want me here.

So I left, feeling guilt and shame burn low in my stomach, entirely different than the heat I’d felt blooming before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I really hope this turned out well. Let me know what you think, and what you want to happen, and what you think will happen. Some of it is still yet to be decided.  
> Click through to my other stuff if you liked this, and otherwise just have a wonderful day :)


	2. I'm A World Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke wants to talk, Calum wants to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...this is where is starts to get heavy on the confrontation, although this is only the beginning. I hope you like it :)

**Come talk to me**

The text had lit up my lock screen 3 hours after I left Luke’s room. I stared at the words for hours. I refused to unlock my phone; afraid that the words would disappear and I would realize it was all just a dream.

I knew I had been avoiding Luke a lot lately. In the last few months I’d been thinking about him more and more, even when I didn’t have a reason to. It scared me. Mostly because I kept catching him looking at me, _really_ looking. It made me feel fuzzy and hot. He wasn’t looking at me the way he looked at Ashton or Michael. It was hard to be around him when glances and casual touches seemed to mean so much more.

It had come to a crest last night. After my headache subsided a little I spent time thinking about what had happened before I blacked out. I could remember him coming to me, before I was very drunk, and asking what was going on.

_-:-_

_“What game are you playing, Cal?” His face was flushed from alcohol. Mine probably was too._

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“You’ve been avoiding me. You haven’t spoken to me without Michael or Ashton around in weeks!” He got close to me, anger flashing in his eyes._

_“I’m not avoiding you,” I tried my best for easy laughter, but was pretty sure I’d missed by a little bit and landed somewhere in nervous. That seemed to placate him somehow. He didn’t look as explosively angry anymore. He sat down in the booth across from me._

_“I think I know what’s going on.”_

_“Nothing’s going on, mate.”_

_“Just ‘cause I came out doesn’t mean I’m gonna out_ you _, Cal.”_

_“What?” I took another shot at laid-back laughter._

_“You’re obvious. To me anyway.”_

_“I’m not gay, Luke.” Even drunk I was able to maintain that lie._

_“And I haven’t caught you staring at me. And you haven’t been avoiding me at all costs because you’re afraid to be alone with me.”_

_“So you_ are _trying to out me.” It was meant to be a joke, but it came out sounding more scared._

_His face fell. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just miss you, Cal.”_

_“_ Yeah _,” I mumbled for lack of anything else to say._

_-:-_

He’d left, and I’d kept drinking, more out of avoidance than anything else.

What I knew now was that at some point I’d gone to his room. I’d said something that he seemed particularly upset I couldn’t remember. Then somehow we’d ended up having sex, a lot of it.

Now I was faced with this text. It seemed like a good sign, a sign that he wasn’t so angry. I imagined myself waking down the hall and knocking on his hotel room door.

I wanted to make him tell me everything that had happened last night. I had so many questions. I hated knowing so little, and remembering even less. I ran into a wall every time I tried to remember anything except sweat and pounding pulses.

I imagined myself knocking on his door, shoving him against the wall, and kissing him until my breath came back and my heart started beating again.

I imagined pushing him through the room, down on the bed, and making new memories to replace the missing ones from last night. My stomach blazed; desire and anxiety all mixed up into one sensation.

“Hi,” I breathed when he opened the door. I held my phone in my pocket, the message that still filled my lock screen burning into my hand.

He looked at me for a moment crossing his arms over his chest. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry.”

He grimaced, looking down, away from my burning gaze “Yeah?” He looked up at me again.

“Really fucking sorry.” I felt myself gravitated towards him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to touch him. He was likely to punch me if I tried though.

“Come in.” He walked away from the door and I followed, pushing it closed slowly, thanking him silently for ending that moment.  

“What happened last night?” I blurted out as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

He looked up at me quickly. “You came here. You were angry. You were yelling at me for what I said earlier. Do you remember talking to me at the bar?”

I blushed. “Yeah.”

“You were mad that I look at you. Something about looking at you, I don’t really know what you meant, but that’s what you said.”

“Oh.” I knew what I had meant, but I wasn’t up for explaining.

“I got kinda mad, too. That you’ve been ignoring me, that you refused to acknowledge anything I said.” He looked away from me. “Then the second I started to yell at you, you called me gorgeous and kissed me.” Luke blushed furiously. He looked back up at me, watching me carefully.

I felt the truth of that story in the pit of my stomach, hot and confused. “Why did you fuck me if I was drunk and yelling at you?”

“You weren’t yelling anymore.” Luke blushed deeper.

“I was drunk.”

“I was too! Just not as drunk as you were, apparently.”

“Did we at least use a condom?” I leaned against the wall, tipping my head back and closing my eyes.

“Seven.” I opened my eyes to look at him. He looked away.

“I shouldn’t have let it happen,” he mumbled after a moment.

“Why did you?” my voice was soft and strained.

Luke closed his eyes, tears spilling down his cheek as he opened them again. “You.”

I didn’t want to know what that meant. “And I said something else, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What did I say, Luke?”

“You said you loved me.” He pressed his fingers into his eyes, wiping away the tears. “You said it over and over and over, and I thought you meant it.”

I stared at him. The boy I’d known since I was 13. I’d never seen him this upset about anything in our entire lives. Not about being away from home on our first tour. Not about broken bones. Not about coming out. “Luke,” and it came out strangled. He looked up at me. “Let’s just forget about all of this.”

His face was indescribable. He looked like he wanted to punch me, but maybe fuck me, but maybe just cry some more. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“I can’t do _this_.”

“Get out.”

“We were both drunk, and I just-“

“Get out!” He was fuming, about to come undone, so I listened. I left for the second time that day. The first thing I did was race back to my room and throw up. I stayed perched over the toilet for almost half an hour. Every time I thought about what he’d said and what I’d felt, I started retching again even though I had nothing left in my stomach.

Eventually I got up and climbed into bed, hoping sleep would calm my stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know how you're feeling about all this.  
> Love you all xx


	3. Twice The Man I Thought I Was Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke says he's backing off, but Calum's not so sure that's what he wants anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fucking back! I know it's been forever and half since I posted a new chapter of this story, but honestly I was struggling with where to cut it. Regardless of my terrible excuses, I really hope you guys are still somewhat interested because I'm pumped to keep this going.

When I woke up the next day it was to Ashton knocking loudly on my door.  I ignored him until he started to sound fresh off the plane from Australia, then I knew he was starting to get fairly angry. 

“What?” I called, still not getting up. 

“ _What_ is we have shit to do,” Ashton bit through the door.  “Let me in.”

I got up, wrapped myself up in the king sized comforter for dramatic effect, and opened the door.  “Hi.”

“You look cute,” Ashton smirked.  “You sick or something?”

“Nah, just cold,” I pulled the blanket tighter and walked away, letting him follow me. I planted myself face first back in bed, ignoring Ashton’s complaints. 

“You’re sick or you get up,” Ashton insisted.  “Come on we have studio time booked today.  You and Luke have to do some recording.”  I groaned at the mention of his name, to Ashton it was at the mention of work. 

“Tell you what, you’ve been wanting more singing credits, why don’t you go with Luke.”

“Because I’m in writing all day,” Ashton flopped down on the bed next to me. 

“You’re a shit singer anyway,” I quipped. 

“Just take a shower and meet Luke downstairs; you smell like vomit,” Ashton made a face, and then got worried again, seeming to have considered what smelling like vomit entailed.  “Are you sure you’re alright?”

I didn’t answer for a moment, not sure what to even answer with.  “I’m not sick,” I settled on. 

-:-

I showered.  I changed into fresh clothes.  I blow-dried my hair, watching it retreat into itself in tight frizzing curls.   I chipped off the last of the nail polish on my left thumb.  By the time I was heading down to the lobby I was feeling much better.  I felt like I could handle completely denying that there was even a problem at least until the end of the day. 

Rounding the corner to Luke Hemmings lounging against the wall dressed like sex itself knocked the breath from my lungs.  I slowed as I took in hair curling around the edges of a snapback, his usual painted on jeans, a shirt so tight it was pulling between his shoulder blades, the sleeves rolled up to show off muscled arms. 

He turned, spotted me, and grinned, his posture completely transforming.  “Hi.” He greeted me, much to my own surprise. 

I waited for him to remember that he was mad at me, remember the way he’d looked at me the day before, remember the things that I still couldn’t.  He kept smiling though.  “Car here?” I asked because I could still barely breathe. 

“Yeah.”

I started to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm.  His hand was in reality only slightly warm, but pressed into my bare skin it felt like it was burning me, like when he pulled back there would be a violent red mark.  “We need to talk.”

I faced him, figuring I owed him at least this much.  “Ok.”  He let go of my arm. 

“I’m gonna drop it.  It’s forgotten…the…you know, what happened the other night.” His voice was soft, and full of regret. Maybe he was having trouble breathing, too.

“Why?” I asked, verging on disbelief.  He didn’t say anything for a moment, his expression unreadable.  This gave me enough time to register a pulling in my chest that seemed to be aimed right at him.  I wasn’t even sure if I was relieved or disappointed. 

“You’re not straight,” he looked so tired, like maybe this conversation had been all that he’d been able to think about since he kicked me out of his room.  “But I love you enough not to out you.” My head spun, my stomach twisting at hearing him say, even in a slightly roundabout way, that he loved me. 

“Thank you,” was all I could manage.  I was sure that at this point I should have maintained that I was definitely straight, but I looked at him, met his gaze, and something in the way he was looking at me flashed me back to hot breath, slick noises, full pressure, and sharp grunts.  I felt warmth run down my spine and I didn’t have it in me to insist on something I was so unsure about.  I suppose that said something to how much had changed in the last couple of days.  Not even to myself, in my most private moments, had I ever admitted that I was into men.  Luke was safe though, even the way he was handling this made me think abruptly that it made sense, that in that drunken state I’d felt safe enough with him to drop my walls. 

It was as though Luke knew what I was thinking about, that I was thinking about him. “I’m not giving up, Cal,” Luke said after a moment. 

“What?”

“Come on the car’s waiting.”  He pushed off of the wall.

“Luke-” But he walked away, out of the building, leaving me contemplating exactly what not giving up involved.  I followed him after a moment, no longer so sure that I could handle the day.   

-:-

Luke didn’t say anything else on the subject for the rest of the day.  He kept a noticeable distance, and stared unrelentingly.  Every time I looked up I met his gaze, and when I didn’t look up I felt his eyes burning into me. It was all so obvious that Michael noticed, which isn’t surprising, but he noticed and felt compelled to ask me about it, involvement being something he usually avoids. 

He waited until Luke left the room to say anything.  “Lovers’ quarrel?” he jabbed.  I clamped my jaw so hard it was audible and refused to even look over at him.  That did not go unnoticed either, and I now had two pairs of eyes on me. 

It wasn’t until the next day that the “not giving up” seemed to gain some meaning. I went to meet Michael in his room to find that my knock on his door was serving as his alarm clock.  He opened the door yawning and told me to wait for him while he showered.  The dividing door between his and Luke’s room was wide open, and when he heard my voice, Luke popped his head through the door, clad only in dark green boxers. My gaze tracked down his body, noting the faint remains of bruises low on his hips, up his throat and along his thighs.  I gulped, and judging by the smirk on Luke’s face, he’d noticed.  “Luke will entertain you,” Michael grumbled as he pushed me through the door into Luke’s room and went to shower. 

When I looked over at Luke he was grinning.  “Hi,” he bit his lip and I picked up his shirt from the floor and threw it at his face. 

“Fuck off,” I bit. 

He tossed the shirt away, still grinning.  “You’re blushing,” he said just quietly enough that I could pretend not to have heard.  When I didn’t say anything he sighed and picked the shirt back up, pulling it over his head. My stomach was on fire at this point.  I had this terrifying thought that if he tried to kiss me I would let him.  I met his gaze and in my head I was screaming at him to try, just try to kiss me.  He didn’t get the message. 

“Now you just look like you’re going to throw up,” he mumbled, looking defeated. 

“Not what I’m thinking,” I let out before I could stop myself, and I realized immediately how suggestive that sounded amidst this tension filled room.

“What _are_ you thinking?” he looked surprised.

“Can’t tell you that,” I said sincerely, which also resonated as suggestive. 

“Cal, can I…?”

“What?” In my head I was screaming _kiss me_.

He moved to stand in front of me and I stepped back into the wall.  He stopped, enough space for me to escape if I wanted to.  “Stop me,” he murmured, reaching out with one hand and cupping my jaw. 

“Not gonna,” I breathed and he grinned. 

He dipped his head down and pressed his mouth to mine, gentle and achingly slow.  I gripped his shirt, my grasp tightening and loosening as he pulled away and pressed back in.  I felt like I was going to fall off my feet, just drop to the floor with the way his mouth was working against mine.  When he started to move away I felt myself leaning into it, my other hand moving to his waist to haul him closer.  He let out a little groan, pushing me back against the wall.  He opened his mouth to me and I growled softly, pulling harder on his shirt.  I had it so balled up at this point that my wrist brushed the bare skin of his waist and I swept my hand up under his shirt, skimming the waist band of his boxers.  I pulled away to breathe after a few minutes, panting softly.  When I looked up at him his pupils were blown and I didn’t need to look down to know how his body was reacting. 

“Cal,” he murmured. 

I shook my head and grabbed his hand, feeling a rush at his compliance as I dragged him over to his bed.  I flopped back, kicking my shoes off as he stared at me.  “What?” I asked, reaching for him again.

He moved into my grasp and let me pull him to straddle my hips.  “Déjà vu,” he mumbled, and I froze.

“Oh,” I breathed, and he stopped, waiting for me to relax.  “Fuck, I-“ I shifted underneath him and he moved off of me. 

“Calum.”

“I need to go.” I stood up, looking at him sitting there on the bed, evidence of my hands all over his body. 

“For fucking once, Cal, can we just talk about it, and can you not just bolt out of the room?” they were angry words, but he sounded more hurt than angry.

“I see the way you’re looking at me right now, Luke.  I know that this hurts you, but you just have to let me leave. I’m not in a different place than I was the other day when I ran out of your room, on your request, and threw up out of sheer shock and anxiety.”

He frowned at hearing about me throwing up.  “Calm down, Michael will hear you.”

“He’s heard you,” came Michael’s voice from the doorway.  We both went rigid and looked over at him.  “Cal, why are you mad? And why were you throwing up, are you sick?” he reached up and felt my forehead, taking my chin in his other hand. 

“I’m not sick,” I pushed his hands off of me.  “How much did you hear?”

“Just the bit about throwing up.”

“Yeah, I think it was a stomach bug.”

“And I think it could be something bigger and we should talk about how he’s feeling,” Luke said pointedly.

“Yeah, how do you feel other than the throwing up a few days ago?” Michael agreed.

“I’m fine.”

“So what did Luke do, then?”

Luke looked so sad and undefined sitting on the bed, just a mess of confusion and mistakes.  I watched his face, waiting for him to say something.  “Does it have anything to do with all those hickeys Luke’s sporting?” Michael guessed, and Luke and I both tensed, Luke’s face turning pink.  “Who was she?”

Luke flopped back on the bed in agony, his shirt riding up to reveal the bruises on his hips.  “Mike, I really can’t do this with you right now,” Luke groaned. 

“Me.” I said simply and Luke’s breath caught almost imperceptibly. 

“You what?” Michael asked, not catching on.

“He’s just fucking with you,” Luke sighed. 

Michael didn’t look fazed; he just stared at me for a second like he was assessing me. “You two are actually fucking,” he chuckled, not even asking, just telling. 

“Michael, drop it,” Luke grumbled. 

Michael laughed louder now.  “I’m going to get dressed.”

He walked past me, and I swear I tried not to breathe like he would see me breathing and be able to tell.  Luke sat up as Michael left the room, his gaze so much heavier than Michael’s had been that I had to close my eyes and just focus on keeping my breathing even.  “Running or staying?” Luke said after a few seconds. 

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze.  “Staying, I think,” I sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.  My stomach flipped over and over as I looked at him.

“Can I ask you to do something that I know sounds crazy?” I asked quietly, closing my eyes again so I wouldn’t have to watch his face, feeling nervous pressure push against my chest. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice dry.  I felt the desire to see the way he was looking at me suddenly rip at my lungs, but I repressed the urge, steeling myself. 

“I’m so fucking confused, Luke,” I began, a wave of impending tears heating up my cheeks. 

“I know.”

“But no matter how much I run away…” I stopped, unsure if I could even form the sentence in my mouth.  “Just keep kissing me,” I rushed out.

The room was completely silent for a moment, and I kept my place, refusing to open my eyes until I heard his response.  I felt his hands cup my face and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, grabbing at his waist as he pressed in to kiss me.  It was soft and calm, like he didn’t have any plans to rip my shirt off or get me on my knees.  I had the fleeting though that he just wanted to affirm what I already knew, that I could trust him, and I felt panic shoot through me at the realization. 

“You can run now, if you feel like you need to,” Luke said softly, his hands dropping to cup my jaw, his grip loosening.  I didn’t say anything for a moment; I just stared at the fan of his eyelashes and the vivid mix of blue and gold staring back at me. 

“I want to be okay with this, I’m just…not there yet,” I said finally, letting go of his shirt. 

He smiled softly.  “I know, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, looking away from his face.  He was too close and too beautiful and it made my stomach twist uneasily to look at him.  I avoided his gaze as I went to collect my shoes from where I’d discarded them, and when I turned to him to say goodbye I was struck for the second time with how visibly obvious the impact of my hands on him was.  I felt my gut wrench like it was trying to pull me back to him.  “I’ll come back tonight?” I offered softly, just pressed with the desire to be near him again.

“Okay,” he flashed me a smile.  I watched his face as it faded and realized how sad he really looked. He looked like the second I walked out the door he was probably going to start crying.  The thought swirled around in my stomach with all the other confusion and guilt as I turned and left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things seem to be going a little bit better for them, but don't worry I'm not done layering on the drama, just you wait.  
> Thanks for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reading this. Let me know everything you think and feel because I need your comments as sustenance.


End file.
